driftfleet | it begins...

[Belthazar doesn't feel good, either, but it's for a different reason. He's dangerously low on mana and he hasn't told anyone yet. Hiro's noticed, certainly, and tried to help him as he could, but the truth is that it isn't enough. He spends his time wandering, trying to keep his mind busy with the various hidden puzzles that the logical faction has set out; he's sure to catch hell for this later, but he wants so badly to impress someone. He wants a distraction. He wants the kind of acceptance he can't get with his father gone.

He catches a glimpse of the water spirit he met that one time practically keeled over, and it worries him. There's an insistent nagging in the back of his mind mana mana mana but he pushes it aside and goes to see how the seraph is faring. There's a veritable mob not far off-- he can hear them fighting-- but he doesn't know that's the cause.]

You look like you need a healer. Did something happen?

[Mikleo had been taking a break to catch his breath under the awning of a closed store, one hand resting on his chest, and he's been ignored so many times by the residents that he doesn't register that the question is addressed to him at first. He looks up cautiously anyway, drawn by the familiarity of the voice and by the sincerity he'd heard. Everyone else seemed to be fighting, so for someone to speak with concern is...

...oh. Oh, thank goodness, it's not one of the idiot faction members.]

No, nothing... healing won't make a difference. I just need to keep moving.

[In truth, what he'd like is to curl up in a corner of his vessel and stay there until the conflict dies down, but with Sorey acting so distant lately, that's unlikely. Or rather, it would be uncomfortable- he's certain that if he called for help Sorey would still come running, but until they've resolved whatever this is, he'd rather not rely on that.]

You don't seem to be moving very well, [the elf says, and winces at how dry it sounds. Belthazar isn't very used to being gentle. He tries with his actions instead, which are very clear: he offers Mikleo his arm and shoulder.]

If you collapse right here, no one will be able to see you or help you. I know I'm... shorter, but we can still make this work if you direct me where to go.

[That's somewhat laughable, since Mikleo is the last person who is likely to comment on someone's height, but misery and self-restraint keeps him from responding that way. It would only be misunderstood, and nothing about this is particularly funny. Belthazar is correct, anyway, and he doesn't have much energy or desire to argue about it. With some reluctance he nods, reaching out to grip the offered shoulder and allow himself to be supported.

Enjoy getting leaned on by a being of pure mana for a while; that won't be uncomfortable at all, surely.]

...Thank you. I don't care where we go, just... anywhere away from the conflict...

Ah, I think I know a place.

[He leads Mikleo away from the mob at a pace he can keep up with, but quickly enough that it can't be called dallying. Soon enough the mob's yelling dies down, and they seem to be getting away from people. It just so happens that Belthazar has found a canal running through this part of town. The banks are muddy and covered in plant life, and there is a small stone foot bridge spanning the gap.]

You're a water spirit, are you not? Should I help you to the edge?

[Oh god, water. That's perfect. It's not as pure as the last planet's vibrant ocean, but it's lively and it smells fresh, and ultimately that's all that matters.]

It's alright... I feel stronger already.

[He quietly separates himself from Belthazar and walks down the banks, ignoring how the mud soaks into his shoes, staining his pant legs. He doesn't stop until he's up to his knees in the water, and then he crouches down, sinking his hands under the surface, splashing his face. A bit of colour comes back to his cheeks.

Much, much better.]

[Belthazar watches him with interest, but also a trace of something difficult to place. It's only while Mikleo is freshening himself up that he realizes his hands are shaking. He hurriedly hides them beneath his sleeves. Belth has been very brave about dealing with the withdrawal headaches thus far, and he's not about to let a water spirit know just how desperate he is for sustenance. Mikleo would never speak to him again.

He's finally found someone who understands his thirst for knowledge and history and magic. He doesn't want Mikleo to know that he is a monster.]

What was making you sick?

[Mikleo takes his time with answering; he doesn't particularly like discussing his weaknesses, least of all with someone who's practically a stranger, but he'd been so transparent about it a moment ago that there's little point in trying to hide it. He sighs faintly, allowing the water to soothe his unease bit by bit.]

Conflict between living beings will breed malevolence. It's like poison to seraphim.

[He's never heard of anything like that before, but the meaning of the word malevolence already carries some heavy connotations.]

So then... hatred and anger...

[No wonder he wouldn't call a healer. What can a healer even do about it? It's a sickness of the heart, not the body. An external problem. The only thing Mikleo can do is run away from it. That seems like a sad life, especially when conflict is so rampant in human society. Elf society, too, though they're more subtle about it.

His vision is spinning a delightful fifteen degrees counter clockwise, so he sits on the edge of the bridge and closes his eyes.]

It makes sense. War destroys the land, and if you are a part of the land, then you would also be affected. You must feel sick all the time...

Not... always, no. I have a friend who acts as a vessel. Entering the domain of a vessel protects me from the worst of it, usually.

[Admittedly, Sorey's domain has been less effective than usual lately, but it used to get that way back home whenever they entered an especially malevolent domain; it. There's nothing really to be done about that, and without him it would be that much worse.

He goes ahead and sits down in the water, letting it soak through his clothes and reach the skin beneath. He'll likely have a hell of a time cleaning up later, but for the moment, getting the residual grime of malevolence out of his body takes priority.]

[Wow, that's... okay, that's not what he expected. Vessels usually mean prisons. There are tons and tons of stories about monsters, spirits, and other things being sealed inside vessels. But the way Mikleo talks about it makes it sound like a good thing, so Belth doesn't press the connotations.]

They must be a very good friend.

[Belth cracks his eyes open and sees Mikleo all but swimming. It's kind of... sweet, to see a nature spirit in his natural element. Like releasing a fish back into the ocean. He stretches his hand out toward the river, and very carefully, calls a minor water spell that plays with the current around Mikleo. The canal is small and a bit lacking, so he hopes this makes him feel better, like standing in a gust of wind when you're hot.]

Edited 2016-08-21 18:47 (UTC)

He is, but that's not entirely why. It's a mutually beneficial thing- we both have a dream to pursue.

[Still, he's smiling as he says it. Their partnership had been something hard-fought and hard-won, but in the end it's worth it. They've both reaped the benefits many times over since then.

He glances down at the water as it moves around him, feeling the shift- the unnatural change making it do that. Being in-tune to the element means he can see it more in how the water moves rather than recognize the spell itself.]

...Is that you, doing that?

[Belth pulls his hand back, and there's an undeniable flush to his cheeks and nose.]

I-- I thought... it would be nice. [He halts the spell, suddenly very diffident.] I can leave you alone if you'd like.

[He shouldn't be wasting mana, anyway, but he thought if even a little bit could help, then it was okay.]

No, no, it's fine. It is nice.

[He moves his hands in tandem with the altered current, gently coaxing a spiral of water out of the canal to circle around him. It's been a while since he had the chance to work his magic into another's, and he's never done it with someone who didn't use seraphic artes before. It's fascinating.]

[That's the kind of encouragement he needs. He feels a little worry in his heart lessen, so he resumes the spell, only to see Mikleo doing something truly incredible with it. He can't help gasping at the spiral, so pure and beautiful, a gleeful expression of both magic and simple joy.

This is the kind of thing Belthazar could never do by himself. He has very little frost mastery besides being able to summon his water servant. Belth's genius lies in using magic to solve problems in innovative ways, not rewriting how the laws of magic work.]

It's beautiful...

[He doesn't miss that comment, and it makes him smile faintly to himself. The water snake circles around him a few more times before he gestures over his shoulder, and it creeps over to where Belthazar is, placidly weaving a path around him instead, rising and falling as if traveling over a series of waves in the air. As part of his carefully-controlled seraphic arte, the water is guided by pure mana, and it hums in the air like a song, peaceful and relaxing.]

[The elf lets out a tiny squeal of delight-- a rare noise for sure-- and covers his mouth. He watches the water dance like there's nothing amiss in the world at all. Such displays are usually man-made, and never quite as wonderful; Silvermoon has a habit of making things float just because they can.

But this feels right, mana and all. He breathes in deep as he reaches out to touch it with hesitant fingertips, as if it might shatter beneath his fingers and leave him soaking wet.]

[The water doesn't break apart or dissolve at his touch, though it does wiggle to get back on the path it's being directed along, almost like a creature squirming away from being touched. Loose droplets fall, clean and pure thanks to the effect of the seraphic arte. Mikleo's smile grows as he tilts his hand, causing the rope of water to twist like a spiral as it turns; this had been one of the more advanced tricks he'd learned when he and Sorey were smaller, on days when they couldn't go outside and ran out of books to read. Sometimes his element was better than any toy they had available, and Sorey always complimented him when he'd discovered a new thing he could do with it. He'd liked that.

Seeing that sort of wonder in the eyes of someone else is a nice feeling, too.]

[He's definitely impressed. The way the water turns and dances can't be anything but a high level trick. It's a nice flair, and Belth really loves how it looks as it twists through the air. He turns a little to follow it, much like a child chasing a dandelion puff; there is a distinct feeling that he doesn't let himself act like this around most people.

Then the dizziness returns and he has to sit down again, though he tries not to wince too obviously.]

I-I've never seen anyone control water like that, not even in a city of mages. I suppose I still have a lot to learn.

If I could control multiple elements, I doubt I'd be able to do this. It's a perk and a limitation, both.

[When Belthazar sits down Mikleo calls the water to him again, brushing his fingers through it before releasing the arte back into the canal. When he glances back, it's then that he notices the body language of his companion.]

...Are you alright?

No one else can do what you do. You should take pride in that.

[He takes in a deep breath to steady himself, and this requires his attention, which means there's a pause before he answers Mikleo.]

Ah, um, I-I'm fine! I am just a little under the weather myself. Nothing to be concerned about.

[That's a blatant lie, and he knows it, but what else is he supposed to do?]

Edited 2016-08-22 04:08 (UTC)

[He does take pride in it- he wouldn't deny that. But there's always that desire, no, need to improve. For his own sake, for Sorey's. It would be better if he focused more on combat artes, but... well, a little bit of both can't hurt. Especially not here, when they're so much less danger threatening them.

Enough of that, though. He shifts in the water, half-turned, not standing up just yet but close.]

Is there anything I can do? You helped me, I'd like to return the favour.

[Belthazar bites his bottom lip, and he gets the feeling that he won't be able to keep lying if he's pushed. He slowly, deliberately pulls his feet beneath him. It's the kind of body language one sees in a child accustomed to running at the first sign of things going bad. He's scared of something and it's not Mikleo.]

Don't worry about it. I didn't-- I didn't do anything.

[He lets out a breath, lifts his head and tries to be as strong as possible.]

I should probably return to the Bishop. T-thank you for showing me your magic. I had fun today.

Edited 2016-08-22 06:02 (UTC)

[He's familiar enough with this sort of behaviour to realize he's pushing where he shouldn't. The illnesses of mortals - or other species in general - is something he's only familiar with in terms of what he's seen with Sorey, but he's aware that some chronic sicknesses do exist- conditions that they might be afraid to talk about, or are embarrassing, or are too private to discuss with a stranger. Illnesses that can't be treated or cured.

He purses his lips and shakes his head, resting his hands back in the water. He doesn't want to cause conflict here, not when it's already more peaceful for the both of them.]

I'm sorry- you don't need to say it if you'd rather not. I won't pry.

[There's definitely some guilt and anguish with this. Even if Mikleo can't sense it, it's written on his face. Mikleo wants to help and Belthazar wants to let him-- he's learned to let people help-- but...

Light, he doesn't want Mikleo to think it's his fault.] I will be fine. Do not worry overmuch.

[He gets to his feet, using the railing to help. He breathes an apology, regardless.]

-- I am sorry.

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nerdeology - 2016-08-22 19:42 (UTC) - Expand